The Times - Serving Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley

Growing up, my family loved to find ways to make our Christmas trees unique. Not always successfully or safely. In the sixties, my mother turned one tree into Pop Art bordering on Psychedelic Art. Brightly colored giant paper flowers in orange, pink, and lime green, love beads, and loads of lights covered the tree. It was so mod, reminding us of the 'Joke Wall' on T.V.'s Laugh-In (look it up). We were so excited to plug in the lights and enjoy its grooviness. It took less than four minutes for the tree to spontaneously combust. At least, that is how I remember it.

Another year, we victimized a tree through flocking. My eldest sister, Anne, discovered Sno Flok, a home-flocking product, and unleashed her inner snow goddess. We bought a sad grocery store tree on Christmas eve, and Anne flocked it as if it had been in an avalanche. It ended up looking less like a tree and more like an overweight yeti. Typically, we would throw all our ornaments, popcorn strands, garlands, tinsel, and lights onto our trees. Anne's minimalist vision limited us to blue and white lights with blue and silver Christmas ball ornaments. In the end, the tree was the perfect backdrop to what we referred to as Anne's 'Kim Novac' period.

The last story in this trilogy of trees is one from my son's childhood. We lived on Whidbey Island in a house surrounded by pine trees. Just before Christmas, there was a wind storm that littered the property with branches of every size. So, instead of buying a tree that year, we constructed one. Using a large branch as the trunk, we drilled carefully angled and spaced holes for our new tree's limbs. The trick was to turn the branches upside down from how they grew, so when we placed them on the trunk, they had a whimsical bounce. Another advantage of making your tree is the ability to custom fit it to your space. By putting smaller branches in the back, the tree looks full but takes less room. We got many compliments on our unique tree. My son and I told anyone who asked that it was a Seussian Pine. After the good Dr., that is.